


Within This Void

by BeyondStarlight



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, ace keeler?, and sad?, contains sex but, i like when they suffer, its complicated?, its cute tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondStarlight/pseuds/BeyondStarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, smiling starts to feel more like a strain. Luckily, there’s no skill Keeler has practiced as well as his smile. And it’s enough, most of the time. Enough to carry him through the day, from face to face, word to word.<br/>Encke doesn’t say anything, sharp eyes haunting Keeler through every training and conversation. Over time Keeler learns that, for such a sturdy man, he has very light footsteps, and sometimes, a very breakable voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within This Void

**Author's Note:**

> "Hope is in the heavens. And the heavens, they are two things; infinite, and far beyond mankind’s reach."

“To get to the top, one must prove to possess the sharpest of skills. It is not merely the ability to navigate well that qualifies you. You must be quick to find solutions to any problem that may occur during a mission, because there are limited possibilities out there while difficulties often occur. Maintaining a calm but dominant posture as you command and motivate your subordinates is an essential leadership quality. And ultimately, you must be greatly enduring and strong to bear with the responsibilities and hardships that the higher ranks bring with them.”  
There were roughly fifty men listening to that speech. It surprised Keeler every time to see how many of them still showed genuine belief as they listened, their eyes wide and focused, jaws set and lips pressed in a tense line as the words resonated through the room. He listened just as quietly as the others, stared intently and practiced patience. The words merely rolled over him, and their meaning stumbled behind incoherently.  
He walked into Cook’s office barely an hour later. His mind was as blank as he could force it to be. He placed his hands soundlessly on the desk and leaned forward. A little smile played on his lips, small and tired, but Cook wasn’t interested in his lips. Not in their smiling, that was. “I would like to apply for lead navigator.”  
Cook nodded solemnly as he leant back in his chair. “Well then,” He pushed his glasses up while speaking, but his eyes didn’t leave Keeler once, “Why don’t you prove your skills to me.”  
It had been decided long ago whom he would promote to lead navigator, but they simply couldn’t be that open and honest. They needed to keep people motivated, keep them on their toes. Those who really knew how to get to the top had to perform a carefully balanced play. A navigator had to catch Cook’s attention. If Cook didn’t grab him by his hair and push him down on his desk, as he did with Keeler now, they would remain but a background artefact. Yet if Cook became too fond of someone, as was happening with Phobos, he was inclined to keep them near him for his own benefit rather than for theirs.  
But Keeler played this game well. He didn’t flirt, didn’t provoke him, didn’t try to play the childish game of pretending to give but taking it all. All he did was surrender. He gave himself completely. Without a struggle his own thoughts and feelings slipped away, leaving him vulnerable to the lust and desire of anyone who held him. Sometimes he thought he could see himself, watch himself as if he hovered his own body. Just like now, he watched how he was shoved against the desk, how Cook’s hands travelled down his hips and undid his pants eagerly. It made it more bearably, somehow. Less humiliating and deceiving. He heard his own voice toppling over his lips and listened to it as if it were someone else’s. He saw his own hands searching for support, nails digging into anything they met, as if he was falling and trying to hold onto something, anything.  
Cook entered him with hard and quick thrusts. Ruthlessly, he pushed him against the desk with each move, leaving bruises Keeler would only notice the next morning. The only sound between them was Cook’s irregular and shallow breath rolling over his lips. His fingers tangled through Keeler’s long hair and yanked it back as he thrashed his hips against him. Keeler felt as if he was both brimming and hollow at once. The whole scene had a surreal touch to it. It seemed distant. He felt how his mouth opened and how he moaned but at the same time the sound was strange to his ears. Cook’s hard erection felt like nothing but a shadow of what it was. He saw himself. He saw the sweat shimmering on his forehead, tasted something metallic but it faded. Cook jerked his head back one more time, drawing another moan from Keeler that sounded somewhat distorted to him.  
He offered a shower, as he always did. And Keeler accepted, as he always did. Cook let him go first, almost gentleman like. When Keeler returned, skin scrubbed to redness, the office was empty. He left and headed to the navigators’ shared showers. There, he stayed long enough under the stream of burning water for his fingertips to wrinkle.  
One day later it was announced that Keeler would take the position of lead navigator, replacing the previous one, who had died in combat. There was no celebration. A few hands patted him on the shoulder, friendly faces that he remembered smiling to him in the hallways. He left with a shallow dread his stomach.  
Merely a month later he was assigned to the Sleipnir, a ship with the mission to fly into colteron territory. The sickness in his stomach returned. The blurry haze and the ringing in his head, the ones that always catch him off guard, grow stronger. He left with faint goodbyes, names drifting out of his memory already. His mouth ran dry when he heard Cook would be the commander on the Sleipnir, but he supposed it could have been worse.  
He entered the Sleipnir with a spring to his step. Faces he had never seen before and names that rung no bells in his head swarmed around him. He wasted no time making his way to the office. He was the first one there, but his new fighter arrived barely a minute later.  
The Encke to his Keeler.  
They were named after gaps. Different voids, nestled between the rings of Saturn. He was tall and robust, and somehow nothing like Keeler had expected. Encke, for some reason, filled the room with his presence. His voice was deep and hardened, echoing between the wands of Keeler’s skull.  
It wasn’t until Keeler looked into Encke’s eyes that he could see why he, too, was named after a gap.

-

Most of the time, Keeler got up first. Sometimes he glanced at Encke, who slept steadily until his alarm went off, curled up on his side. He would often face the wall, but when he didn’t, Keeler could see the otherwise invisible softness of his features.  
Encke returned to their room around midnight, when Keeler was already lying quietly in bed. More often than not, he was awake, and listened to Encke, who tried to change into his nightwear without making any noise. Listening to Encke’s deep, regular breathing was calming, and Keeler had noticed Encke fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
It was nice, Keeler admitted. Days, even weeks passed like that. They trained, they talked, they did what they had to do. No more, no less. And slowly, he started feeling the warm vibration of Encke’s voice when he lowered his voice. Whenever Encke touched him, whether it was when he carefully pushed him aside or encouragingly patted his shoulder, or when Keeler’s head would grow too light and suddenly Encke’s warm arms would be around him, it was so gentle it almost seemed unreal. He saw light sprout in those empty eyes and it bloomed when their looks crossed.  
As far as lying was concerned, he could keep off Encke’s worries well enough. There was nothing worth that sort of thought. Keeler was fine, and he underlined that with playful smiles and purring voices.  
Perhaps he should have seen it coming. Perhaps he had been overconfident. Icarus, flying too near the sun, caught with the sudden realisation of doom as he collapsed back into the earth. And in such fashion, Keeler stumbled into his room. The door shut behind him instantly. His knees gave in. On arm on the ground, head pressed against its cool surface, and one hand on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Slowly, he urged himself, count your breaths. One, two-  
“Keeler,” His throat shut tightly, mouth too dry to swallow. “Keeler, are you okay?”  
The bathroom. He hadn’t seen it. Encke had been- Encke was there.  
Strong hands reached out for him, helped him to get up. He waved it off, in between shallow breaths. He lowered his hands quickly again. They were shaking. The dull ache throbbed in his chest with each heartbeat. Encke made him sit on his bed, eyes sharply following each move and lips barely withholding his questions.  
Keeler sat down, but refused to lie down. He smiled weakly, knew that it didn’t look convincing on his pale face. Not anymore. Icarus had fallen. His hands trembled just a little, so he rested them between his legs. “It’s alright,” His voice didn’t waver anymore, “I’m better now. It’s over.”  
He was not giving up this fight just yet.  
“What happened?”  
“It’s nothing-”  
“I didn’t ask whether you thought it was nothing. What happened?” His voice was hard and sharp. His eyes were steel, pressing into Keeler. Then it was gone. Encke looked down at his hands, at his thumb which slowly caressed Keeler’s hand. “I, I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be,” Keeler felt the warmth from his calloused hands seeping into him.  
“No I,” He started, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”  
A smile tugged at Keeler’s lips as he saw a faint blush spreading across Encke’s cheeks. He laughed softly, and moved his hands up so he could hold Encke’s. “That’s alright. I know you mean well.”  
And his wings spread. He rose. The sun burning his skin, the earth miles below him. Icarus sneered at the ocean, sneered at the sun.  
“Are you really okay?” Encke asked, glancing up again and stroking Keeler’s hand with his thumb.  
“Yeah, it’s nothing too serious,” Keeler smiles, “I’m fine now.”  
When they went to bed, Keeler folded his hands against his chest, Encke’s tender touch still tingling sweetly in his mind. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach he could not ignore however. He feared Encke would see more than he wanted him to. He pressed his lips to his knuckles one last time, promising himself he would be no dead weight on Encke’s shoulders.  
When Encke joined him in bed, pressing wet kisses on the nape of his neck Keeler realised it was time to surrender.  
He had thought it would be different with Encke. Now, the thought sounded childishly naïve to him. He curled up into Encke’s warm embrace, wishing he could think about something else than washing himself. He wished he could stop feeling the fingerprints burning on his skin, hot on his skin like the sun, suddenly very near and very hot in his back. Encke plants a tender kiss on his forehead, mutters a goodnight and strokes Keeler’s hand with his thumb until he falls asleep. 

-

“I thought I should pay you a visit,” Keeler mouths against Encke’s lips, their smiles touching. Encke kisses the corner of his mouth. He likes to litter him with tiny kisses. And for Keeler, nothing comes close to the softness of Encke’s sweet lips and the feeling of his smile breaking through. No matter what goes through his head, he can’t resist the ticklish lightness that spreads with every touch. And for just a moment, nothing matters anymore. Not with Encke’s lips pecking him tenderly on his cheeks, his closed eye lids, the tip of his nose, his forehead. And it’s all he can feel. And that’s just too good.  
Fingers travel down Keeler’s back, which arche a little to the touch. Encke’s strong hands go further down to squeeze his ass while Keeler undoes Encke’s pants skilfully – too skilfully. The warmth of Encke’s lips burns on his skin, but suddenly it doesn’t burn any deeper. When Encke lifts him slightly, he spreads his legs without thinking, wrapping them around Encke.  
He is pressed against the wall, and for some reason it’s cold and rough texture feels better than anything else right now. His eyes close as Encke enters him carefully, his breath hot against his neck. They’re silent, smothering their moans into each other’s skin. Each thrust becomes rougher, each kiss sloppier. And it’s so much easier, Keeler can’t help but think, to be shoved against a wall and fucked.  
Encke comes deep inside him, with Keeler’s name burning on his lips. His breath is haggard and his cheeks flustered, but sharpness returns quickly to his eyes. He puts him down carefully, and his hand trails down to Keeler’s erection. He is stopped halfway, and they press their lips together softly.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Keeler mouths hotly into their kiss, “You’ll make up for it later.”  
Although he really hopes it doesn’t have to come to that. But Encke loves giving. He loves giving and taking equally as if love has some sort of justice system. Righteous man, Keeler thinks, and he can’t help but be charmed by Encke’s weakness.  
Encke leaves. Keeler heads for the showers.  
He presses his head against the white tiles, clenching his fists. His eyes are shut, as if it helps him to exist a little less. He might just topple over the edge now. Collapse quietly. But then he uncurls his fingers again and straightens himself. There is no space for failure. The water is scalding at it hits his face, and it leaves his skin pinkish and tingling. His shoulders slump back and he inhales the damp air deeply.  
The water reddens his skin, and burns away any touches his memory feverishly holds onto. Sterile soap, the only scented soap on the Sleipnir he can get his hands on, fills his nostrils. He washes himself, rubs the soap into his skin, everywhere, until his hands feel raw. Sometimes he wonders if it’s bad. Bad to cleanse himself like this, even after Encke.

-

In between the life-threatening missions and near-death experiences, the days grow long. As time goes by, Keeler notices a silence settling around him, enveloping him slowly. The pauses between his sentences lasting, the thoughts sticking to his tongue breathlessly. He finds himself alone more often, lingering behind, where he can stay away from the loud voices and sharp lights.  
It’s already past midnight when he returns to his room, walking swiftly as the echoes of voices haunt him through the hallways. As soon as the door closes behind him, he parts his lips and catches his breath. He steadies himself against the door as the room starts to sway. His eyes dart around, trying to find a steady point to focus on. Behind the small window, he can see the stars he is more than familiar with. Even as they are hazy and moving, each of their positions, and every constellation they make are known to Keeler. It takes a while before he sighs and pushes himself off the door. He falls onto his bed and lets his face sink into the pillow, until it smothers him. Everything feels so heavy. His arms and legs press into the mattress, his fingers are too numb to move, and through his veins not blood but zinc flows. He raises his head slowly and inhales deeply, the vague scent of Encke still lingering behind. He curls up, with his knees to his chest, and leans his head against the wall. His eyes are fixed on a point somewhere beyond the void right outside these walls, through the small window of their room.  
There is no sky in space, no sunrise and no sunset. It’s hard to tell one day apart from another. Sometimes, he thinks time might not be passing at all.  
“Keeler?”  
For such a sturdy man, Encke has very light footsteps, and sometimes, a very fragile voice. Habitually, he turns on the light in the bathroom and leaves the door ajar. The thin ray of light is enough to bring out all the shapes in the darkness without straining their eyes.  
The bed creaks softly behind him, and he sinks a little deeper into it. He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t tear his eyes away from the nothingness. Encke is warm behind him, his forehead resting on Keeler’s shoulder. His breath is still fast from the training, thoughts still racing through the straight and logical paths for thoughts, those that build plans and tell him how to deal with brutal fighters and anger; but not with the quiet.  
“I miss the sky,” Keeler hums, barely audibly.  
Encke raises his head to glance over Keeler’s shoulder. Outside, only starlight shimmers faintly. To him, it looks like it might as well be a very clear night sky. That’s not it though; he knows that, but he doesn’t know what else it should be. His fingers comb through Keeler’s cold and damp hair. He has the haunting feeling of sitting in an empty bed. He wants to wrap his arms around Keeler, draw him close into his embrace, but there is a line drawn between them and he is afraid to cross it. Afraid that, if he finds it, he won’t be able to cross it. That Keeler won’ let him.  
“Do you think of the sunrise sometimes? Or the sunset? The blue sky?” Keeler’s voice is thin and soft. “I know those were only colours, and the skies were just as empty as the void around us is now, but I liked it better still.” He laughs breathlessly, “Is that silly?”  
Encke leans forward just the slightest, his nose brushing over Keeler’s shoulder, caching the faint scent of sterile soap and linen. “You’re not silly.” His voice sounds too loud between them, and his words seem to ricochet off of every surface. All he wants to do is lean in and hold Keeler. Hold him and never let go. If only he could promise him everything will be alright, swear to him that one day he will take him back to earth and they will watch all the sunrises and all the sunsets together. But for now, Encke thinks, if he could just hold Keeler until he would fall asleep in his arms, that would be enough. And when every part of him screams to kiss warmth into Keeler's cold cheeks, he leans back. The space between them is cold, invisible strings between them pulling him back. Carefully, his fingers curl around Keeler’s locks. They are soft and clean, and sometimes, when Keeler’s scent doesn’t remind him of the med bay or freshly oiled machinery, there’s a little bit of his very own scent still clinging to his hair. But not tonight.  
“Are you braiding my hair?” Keeler asks, the smallest of smiles audible in his whisper.  
Encke frowns as a few silky locks start slipping through his calloused hands. He blinks a few times, his vision blurring with tiredness. The small ray of light coming from the bathroom flickers every once in a while. His thoughts gradually dissolve into just listening to Keeler’s slow inhaling and exhaling. He licks his lips, trying to gather the hair together, “Is that silly?”  
After years of training, his voice seems to have a permanent edge to it. Something loud and commanding, even when he tries to lower it. He wants to ask why Keeler isn’t sleeping. Why he stares lifelessly at the stars, as if there are answers out there that he is waiting for. He doesn’t dare to ask. He knows he will sound like he’s scolding a petulant fighter. He doesn’t want his voice to sound so distant and hard when all he wants to do is draw him in close and press their lips together. So he swallows, and continues listening to Keeler’s slow breath until he is done with braiding.  
When Keeler glances over his shoulder, it becomes a little easier to breathe. Their eyes meet, and there is a faint curl in Keeler’s lips. “How do I look?”  
Encke laughs softly, smothers the noise with a kiss onto Keeler’s temple. “This is probably the ugliest braid you’ve ever had,” He mutters. Keeler turns, the soft creak of the bed lightening the silence, until they face each other. The space between them grows smaller, but Keeler stops leaning in when Encke reaches out for him and cups his face tenderly. His thumb runs slowly down his jaw until he holds his chin.  
“But you’re still perfect to me.”


End file.
